


sugar sugar

by junipyeon



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Domestic Bliss, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, literally no plot its just dotae being sappy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-23
Updated: 2018-12-23
Packaged: 2019-09-25 09:30:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,548
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17118785
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/junipyeon/pseuds/junipyeon
Summary: Doyoung hates Christmas, but he loves Taeyong, so things balance out.





	sugar sugar

**Author's Note:**

> merry xmas, here's an obligatory boys-in-love baking drabble. posting at 4am, sorry in advance for any errors. hope your holidays are healthy, safe, and most of all, happy!

Doyoung doesn’t really like Christmas. Sure, his friends (Yuta and Donghyuck in particular) mock him for it, calling him no-fun and boring and a hater, but Doyoung holds firm. In his humble, unbiased opinion, it’s the stupidest holiday of the year. Just thinking about the flashy decor and the repetitive jingles and the stress of gift shopping for friends, family, _Taeyong_ , is enough to make Doyoung’s blood pressure skyrocket. Worst of all, eggnog comes back in season. Oh god, eggnog. The worst tasting drink in the world aside from vodka, and it doesn’t even have the blessed power to inebriate–- it just tastes like misery in liquid form. Eggnog also happens to be Taeyong’s favorite holiday drink, so there’s always a carton in the fridge that Doyoung (who is not a morning person) keeps mistakenly pouring into his daily coffee. He really doesn’t like Christmas. In fact, he kind of hates it. 

And yet. 

Doyoung and Taeyong’s apartment is filled to the brim with Christmas decor. Light strings draped on every available surface, twinkling like miniature stars, lacy paper snowflakes plastered across the walls, red and green tinsel wrapped around the curtain rods, the lamps, even the doorknobs. A small, almost invisible cluster of mistletoe hung innocuously in the bedroom doorway. No picturesque fire in the hearth, though. Their empty fireplace was blocked off by the TV set, so Taeyong had settled with candles-electric, since genuine ones would be a fire hazard–on the mantel, steeping the room in a muted pinkish gold glow.

“Is all of this really necessary?” Doyoung had previously griped, waving his hands at the excessive display. It was an elaborate set-up for two people whose Christmas plans were to cuddle on the couch with hot cocoa and fluffy blankets, watching corny seasonal movies and half making fun of them (Doyoung), half defending their honor (Taeyong) until they fell asleep, limbs tangled, curled up in each others’ arms. Taeyong had simply given him a flat look, like _duh, of course_ , then went back to stringing up the lights.

In the present, Doyoung sighs and slumps deeper into the kitchen stool, exhausted. Christmas and the subzero temperatures and the general awfulness of the holiday season is draining his life force. “Doyoung!” He looks up at Taeyong in the kitchen, who’s brandishing a wooden spoon at him menacingly. The gesture isn’t as threatening paired with his crimson fair isle sweater, which matches his hair and his glowing expression, cheeks suffused from the kitchen’s warmth. The holidays have the reverse effect on his boyfriend. Unlike Doyoung, who shrivels up like a pathetic raisin (Donghyuck’s words), Taeyong embraces the festivity, radiates an almost tangible sense of childish joy. 

“Stop being a bah humbug and get over here,” he says, waving the spoon emphatically. Doyoung rolls his eyes but gets up anyway. 

“That’s the phrase, not the person. Even a scrooge like me knows that,” he points out. Taeyong ignores him, opting to fiddle with the speakers on the counter. The peppy Christmas music grows in volume, and Taeyong hums along, setting down his spoon in the bowl on his left. 

Every year, something about the wintry air stirs Taeyong into a baking frenzy. He’s been whipping up cookies all morning, and it doesn’t look like he’ll be stopping anytime soon. Doyoung hovers by the edge of the countertop, eyeing the vast expanse of cooling trays. Cookies iced scarlet red and emerald green with intricate designs and shiny smooth finishes. Snowflakes dusted with powdered sugar and nonpareils, half-moons dipped in chocolate, gingerbread men dressed smartly in button-ups and bowties. Despite himself, Doyoung is impressed. Taeyong really covers all his bases.

“Come on,” Taeyong beckons impatiently, and Doyoung feigns irritation. “You’re a baking fiend,” he grouses. Not even a second later, he gives in, scooting close to kiss his boyfriend’s cheek.

Taeyong reciprocates, quickly pecking Doyoung’s lips, then refocuses on the tablet in his hands, open to a list aptly titled _Christmas Cookies! (Doyoung don’t delete this)_. “What should I make next?”

Doyoung sneaks a spoonful of cookie dough before resting his chin on Taeyong’s shoulder, peering at the screen. “No more sugar cookies,” he rules out.

Ah, the sugar cookie, Taeyong’s favorite and Doyoung’s nemesis. Taeyong spends the most time decorating these ones, lovingly piping out elegant swirls, dotting hearts and dashes and round-tipped stars across each tiny canvas. So much time that when he finishes, he can’t bring himself to actually eat them, mar their glossy, perfect surfaces with his teeth. “All that hard work, gone to waste,” he’d say, voice low with regret. The responsibility is left to Doyoung, then, who is forced to stuff himself with sugar until he’s sick of it. He can never finish them, so Doyoung has to pack them into goodie bags and hand them out to the neighbors, who thankfully appreciate both Taeyong’s artistry and the actual cookies.

Taeyong grumbles in dissent, and Doyoung digs his chin deeper into his sweater. “Seriously, no more! Do the peppermint ones, those are yummy,” Doyoung sighs, already imagining the sweet, smooth delight that is mint chocolate. Just then, the kitchen timer sounds, and the two shuffle back so Taeyong can open the oven door. Doyoung squints at the blast of warm, sugar-laden air, then his eyes fly open as he registers the tray of pale yellow discs. 

“What! You’ve already made more! Why would you even ask me in the first place?” he fumes. Taeyong flashes him an impish grin, shrugging unapologetically before slipping on the checkered oven mitts. Doyoung steals another bite of cookie dough, muttering indignantly as he chews. Taeyong carefully rests the tray on the stovetop to cool, shucks off his mitts, then turns back to Doyoung, obviously conflicted.

“Okay, fine, let’s compromise–- I’ll ice this batch so you can actually eat them,” Doyoung offers.

“Why? Don’t you suck at icing?”

“That’s the point! It’s so you can eat them without feeling sad! You’re welcome, by the way,” he seethes. 

“Oh, wow. Thanks so much, baby, I really appreciate it,” Taeyong says soullessly. 

“You’re so mean to me,” Doyoung whines, biting down his smile. Taeyong drops his front, falling breathless with laughter, then draws in close to kiss him properly. Just as Doyoung’s relaxing into the kiss, his mouth opening pliantly, Taeyong freezes and jerks his head back.

“Wait a second. Are you eating the cookie dough?” He glances at the bowl, spots the incriminating spoon out on the counter. His head whips back to glare at Doyoung accusingly. “You are!”

Doyoung, the thief-in-question, tries to distract him with another kiss, but Taeyong steps out of his arms. “It’s really bad for you! You could get salmonella, or worse,” he scolds.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Doyoung hedges, even as he unsubtly reaches for the bowl.

Taeyong shrieks and bats his arm away. They face off in the middle of the kitchen, Doyoung laughing evilly and making grabby hands at the dough while Taeyong yells and fights off his onslaught. “The cookies are literally right there,” he unsuccessfully pushes Doyoung towards the opposite counter, giggling all the while, “freshly baked and disease-free!”

“No, I want it real fresh! Freshly _un_ baked,” Doyoung playfully tickles his boyfriend with one hand, who screeches in outrage, and pretends to stretch for the bowl with his other. He’s smiling so hard that it hurts.

The song in the background transitions from something upbeat into a tinkling instrumental. It’s Taeyong’s favorite Christmas ballad, warm and mellow and sweet. He lights up in recognition, latching onto Doyoung’s outstretched hands and pulling him in to dance instead.

They sway around the kitchen, more clinging than dancing. Taeyong’s arms wind around Doyoung, head resting in the curve of his neck. Doyoung’s arms settle at his waist, his excited pulse slowing as he breathes in Taeyong, who smells of vanilla and sugar and home. His heart grows heavy with affection.

As the strings give way to the crooning melody, Taeyong lifts his head to pout at him, eyes imploring.

“God, you’re so annoying,” Doyoung says without bite, bringing his lips to the other’s temple. He begins to hum, softly but sweetly, and Taeyong’s eyes close in bliss.

“I love you,” he says once the song has finished, voice taut with emotion. Doyoung’s heard it so many times, but his breath still hitches as if it’s the first. He tries to say it back past the sudden lump in his throat. His replying _loveyoutoo_ comes out garbled, but Taeyong understands anyway.

Doyoung doesn’t really like Christmas, so he refuses to put anything even remotely festive on his cookies, choosing to pipe out crooked hearts instead. Taeyong, catching his aversion, shakes his head in disapproval.

“C’mon, Doyoung, It’s Christmas, not Valentine’s day,” he tuts. Doyoung vengefully pipes icing on the tip of his nose, and Taeyong whines until it’s kissed clean. He returns to icing as Taeyong clings to him from behind, alternating between blowing on his ear to startle him and tenderly kissing his shoulder. Doyoung begrudgingly (willingly, easily) leans back into his embrace. He doesn’t really like Christmas, but he loves Taeyong, so he breathes in the saccharine sweetness of Christmas-- of vanilla and sugar, of _home_ , and holds it to his chest, right up to his heart.

**Author's Note:**

> i'm on [ tumblr](http://junipyeon.tumblr.com/), but my blog is kinda dead. comments and kudos appreciated!


End file.
